The truth is the sun
burning through layers of faces
my graciousness
and alienation from god’s ways

your bleed heart
strained within my web,
another prey,
sniffing illusive poison
from my painted daisy

am just a flower
beauty lasts not,
but fades,
to bring a winter’s cold

an addictive intoxication,
the aromatic jades,
where white, pink,
and purple petals,
colour the sky

into a grey,
the girl beneath,
A thousand years,
of tears and heartache
when her lover,
walked away

If love is wrong,
she hugged onto its wheels,
To hell’s gates anyway

What has, or to be,
is beautiful
just a flower
that we love till it withers
into petals of sadness,
or memories of a worthwhile


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